And somewhere in heaven, Versace sheds a single, perfect tear.

Hannah leaned against the wall. "Mind if I call shotgun?" Since you're carrying one? Feel free.

Ummm…” She licked her lips. “Define fun.” “Quit doing that, jailbait. It’s distracting.

He (Michael) was gone in a whisper of air, hardly making any sound at all, and Claire shivered and leaned against Shane’s solid, very human warmth. His arms went around her, and he touched his lips lightly to the back of her neck. “How can you smell this good after the kind of crappy day we’ve had?” “I sweat perfume. Like all girls.

She keeps asking me where we're going." "Yeah," another voice said. It was Shane, pulling up a chair beside Claire. "Girls do that. They've always got to be taking the relationship somewhere." "That's not true!" "It is," he said. "I get it; somebody's got to be looking ahead. But it makes guys think they're-" "Closed in," Michael said. "Trapped," Shane added. "Idiots," Claire finished.

I just went to work for a vampire, was scared by a spider, and got knocked down by a tanning bomb. And that’s just my day, not my week.

If Myrnin pokes his crazy head up before then, call me and try to keep him, you know, stable.' 'Is he UNstable?' 'I don't know, how can I tell? You're the crazy whisperer!' She had a point. Claire couldn't help but smile about that.